A Normal Life
by fiona1987
Summary: Dean/OC. Dean's in need of a patch-up and, as an old aquaintance of the family points out "everyone needs a break now and then, right?". Can the boys switch off and enjoy themselves for a while?
1. Chapter 1

_**A Normal Life. **_

_This story is set mid-way through season 2. I don't plan on it being a very long story but I just thought it'd be fun to take the boys out of the supernatural for a while. Like my OC says in the story- everyone deserves a break. Enjoy and comment if you like, good or bad reviews always welcome. _

…_**.**_

_**Buffalo, New York**_

Lucy gently stuck the tips of her fingers into the bathwater, the sound of the faucet still cascading more water into the tub. She winced slightly at the heat, adjusting the cold water slightly to even out the temperature. Slipping off her workwear, a reminder of her tough day, she slipped into her blue gingham bathrobe and reached round to the back of her head, releasing her shoulder-length chestnut brown hair from the clasp she'd had it tied up in. She dimmed the lights in the bathroom and pulled out a lighter, lighting various candles she'd positioned around the room. She bit her lip longingly, wanting nothing more than to slip right that second into the comfort of the warm water and the white, fragrant bubbles. She padded back into the sitting room of her apartment, giving the tub a chance to fill up fully, and flopped down in front of the TV. She relished the thought of a night of trash tv and…yes, _pizza_. She leaned across to the small table by the side of her lamp, picking up the menu for the pizza place down the street. She'd barely begun skimming its contents when her buzzer began to ring furiously, as though someone was pressing it desperately from the street down below. She frowned at it, setting the menu down on the coffee table and pressing the speaker on the intercom. "Hello? Who is it?"

There was a brief pause, before a deep voice crackled in response. "…It's Dean."

"Dean…," She echoed, furrowing her brow. For the briefest of moments she tried to place the name but, of course, it struck her within seconds. She quickly pressed another button to let him in. As she waited for Dean Winchester to make his way up to her apartment she quickly made sure that her bathrobe belt was tied securely, a little annoyed that she had no time to quickly throw some clothes back on. Her thoughts quickly turned to what state she was about to find him in, as was always the case when he or his father, John Winchester, stopped by to visit her. It had, however, been quite some time since their last visit. Well, since Dean's last visit, anyway. John had shown up just a couple of months earlier, without Dean by his side. Banging sounded on the door and Lucy opened it, reeling slightly to find Dean grinning at her sheepishly yet pained, his arm slung round the shoulder of a taller yet equally handsome companion. _The other Winchester_, she supposed to herself.

"Hey Luce…woah," Dean greeted her, taken aback to see her in a state of near undress. Still, despite holding his arm, which was packed with makeshift bandages, at a pained angle, he offered her a trademark charming smile. . "Bad time?"

She pulled her robe tighter around herself, tutting at the remark. "Of course not."

"Great. That offer still good?" He asked, wincing again in pain through gritted teeth.

"Of course it is," She shook her head as though it went without saying, standing aside and ushering them inside.

"Sorry to just show up like this," Dean apologised as the other man led him inside. "You know I hate to drop in on you announced."

"What are you talking about?" She rolled her eyes ever so slightly, a smile playing about her lips. "You _only ever_ drop in unannounced."

"Where do you want me to put him?" The other one spoke up.

"Over there on the couch," She pointed, rushing quickly in front of him to spread a blanket out on the sofa. He _was _always welcome as she'd said, but that didn't mean she wanted to get his blood all over her couch. As they both gently settled Dean down onto the couch, she looked over at the man he'd come in with. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met. I'm Lucy."

"Sam…Winchester," He said, instinctively holding his hand for her to shake but retracting it shyly when he realised that shaking hands casually whilst his brother's arm bled profusely wasn't the best timing. Instead, he smiled politely. "Nice to meet you."

"I _thought_ you were the other one…got that Winchester look about you," She said, smiling at him before turning her attention back to Dean and his injured arm. "So, what happened this time, Dean? Knife?"

"How'd you guess?" He asked against partially gritted teeth, just in time for her to see the wound for herself as she unwrapped all of the bloodied cloth bandages which had been compacted tightly around the wound, likely by Sam. He groaned lightly in pain as she gently fingered around it.

"It's usually a knife…" She mused, peering at the wound. "Could be worse, to be honest."

"Could be worse…," He raised his eyes lightly at her as he motioned to the bloody pile of cloth on the floor, remarking sarcastically. "…I guess I've only lost a pint or two."

"Well, at least you used an old towel," She reasoned. "Those won't be coming out and I can promise you that."

"That…that was actually one of my t-shirts," Sam piped up.

"Oh…sorry," She said, slightly amused. She turned her full attention to Sam. "Sam, could you go into the cupboard over there and pass me the leather bag inside?"

"Sure," Sam said, folding his arms and began heading in the direction she pointed him in. "So, Dean says you're like a doctor?"

"I _am_ a doctor," She said dismissively, throwing the bloodied cloth onto the floor in a ball. "Paediatric Emergency Medicine."

The corners of Sam's mouth couldn't help but turn up slightly in an amused grin. "Came to the right doctor then, huh Dean? Mentally-speaking…."

Dean waited until Lucy's head was turned away before raising a middle finger to his brother.

A thought struck Lucy and she looked back over at Sam. "Oh, first, could you go into the bathroom and shut off the faucet. I was running a bath. It's second on the right down the corridor."

Sam simply nodded, disappearing down the corridor.

Dean took the opportunity to look at her as she inspected the wound, noticing everything that was different about her since the last time they'd seen each other. She was fresh out of med school when he and his father had first knocked on her door three years earlier. Her hair was shorter now for a start, falling about her shoulders where it had previously travelled all the way down to the small of her back. He could've sworn she'd lightened the colour slightly too. She looked more worldly-wise too, the youthful naivety she'd once held stripped from her face. _Still_, he noted, she was still the Luce he remembered so well...and still hot so that was a bonus. "Good to see you again."

"You too," She said, smiling back at him. She took her own opportunity to look him up and down too. He was ruggedly handsome as ever, but something was a little off. His eyes, which at one time had shown a vigour for the hunt and the lifestyle which he lead now held a look of defeat and fatigue. She smiled at him anyway. "It's been a while…I'm glad to say."

"Oh thanks," He rolled his eyes, leaning back into the plush sofa and wincing at the pain the movement sent rippling through his injured arm.

She let out a laugh and waved a hand dismissively. "You know what I meant…good that you've not been too badly hurt to come and visit me...whilst in the area, of course."

Sam reappeared, fumbling in the cupboard for her bag. He brought it to her, frowning apologetically. "I blew out the candles too whilst I was in there. Sorry again to just spring up out of the blue like this. It, uh, looked like you had a relaxing night planned for yourself. You really like Yankee Candles, huh?"

"Candles, huh?" Dean looked at her suggestively, a look which she rolled her eyes at.

"It's no big deal, Sam," She shook her head, reaching out and taking the bag from him. She called it her treasure chest, the bag she used to store her own personal first aid equipment, albeit slightly more advanced than the average first aid kit. She'd used the contents of that bag often to treat the Winchesters' wounds. She cleaned out the wound. "I'm gonna have to stitch it up, Dean." 

"I thought so," Sam murmured gently, thoughtfully stroking his chin with the edge of his index finger as he watched on. "You need anything else."

"Uh-uh," Lucy shook her head, tossing a brief glance over her shoulder. "Why don't you get your brother a beer from the fridge though…and get one for yourself while you're there."

"Got anything stronger?" Dean asked, eying her as she deftly threaded her needle.

"Yep," She said, raising her voice but not taking her eyes from the needle. "Sam, there's a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard above the sink…and glasses in the cupboard next to it."

Dean's eyes scanned round her apartment as she began to suture his wound. He asked her the question he asked her every time he came to her apartment. "So, don't you wanna know how it happened?"

"Dean…," She paused briefly to look him square in the eyes, almost warningly. "Why do you ask this every time? You know I _never_ want to know how it happened.. My one grisly experience with the supernatural was enough to last me a lifetime, thank you very much. I don't need your other horror stories too. "

"Suit yourself," Dean said with a little smile, closing his eyes gently and trying to relax as she sewed up his wound. He asked her every time out of amusement at her reaction. In reality it suited him just fine too to keep her in the dark as much as possible. He didn't care to taint her anymore than her experience three years previously already had.

"Come again?" Sam asked about Lucy's statement, returning to the pair of them with the whisky in one hand, a glass in the other and a confused look on his face. He didn't understand the link his family had to this woman and Dean hadn't mentioned much in the car. If there was one thing Sam Winchester hated it was being kept in the dark. "Sorry, Lucy, but Dean didn't explain very much to me on the way over here. How exactly do you two know each other?"

"You didn't tell him?" Lucy asked, raising an eyebrow at Dean.

"Never came up," Dean replied, amused.

"About three years ago your brother and your dad helped me. This place…," she motioned around her apartment with her free hand. "…was haunted."

"Poltergeist," Dean explained, prompting Sam to raise his eyebrows to show that he got it.

"Anyway, the long and the short is that they took care of it and I can sleep safely at night," Lucy explained with a shrug and an appreciative smile.

"Luce said to drop by her place if we were ever in the neighbourhood and in need of a fix-up…," Dean continued, slugging some whisky from the glass Sam had poured for him.

"An offer they've taken me up on quite a few times now, as it goes," She smirked slightly yet affectionately.

Dean looked at her pointedly.

"…not that you're not always welcome, you know that," She backtracked quickly. "God knows I'll never be able to fully repay your family for saving my life!"

"Yeah, well we didn't intend to come back, of course," Dean looked at Sam, shrugging slightly. "…but if it means avoiding hospitals and paperwork or home treatments then so be it."

"Plus it was good experience for me in the first year of my residency," Luce looked at Sam and letting out a little laugh. "I've seen a real spectrum of injuries with those two."

"Glad we could help," Dean said dryly.

"All done," She said, finishing the final stitches. She stood up, walking into the kitchen to wash her hands. She returned moments later, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. By the time she'd made it back Dean was already putting his leather jacket back on. This was how it always was. They came, she fixed them up and off they went again. Her stomach always flopped at this moment too. She continued to wipe her hands thoughtfully, something occurring to her. "Hey, where is John anyway?"

Both boys stopped in their tracks. Deans hands paused midway from flipping up his jacket collar, it suddenly dawning on his that he'd yet again encountered an acquaintance of his father who didn't yet know he was dead. Once again he was the bearer of bad news. He didn't have to say anything though, as Lucy seemed to read it on their suddenly ashen faces.

Lucy's own face fell slightly too. "Is he alright?"

Dean shook his head, biting his lip and looking away, the hand on his uninjured arm fishing around in his pocket for the keys to the Impala.

"…dead?" She asked in a quieter voice.

This time it was Sam's turn to nod his head gravely.

"Oh," She said simply, taking a few steps and sitting down on one of her armchairs. Her stomach dived a little, but she held it together. She was plenty used to the realities of death in her line of work. She simply looked at them sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, boys."

"Couple months ago now," Dean said, shaking his head slightly but keep his stiff upper lip.

Lucy scratched her chin for a moment as she reflected. "You know, I just saw him a few months ago…."

Dean's eyes raised in surprise.

"What?" Sam asked. "Our dad was here?"

"Mm hmm," She nodded gently, awkwardly rubbing her hands together. "He stopped by one night…."

"What was wrong with him?" Dean asked, clearing his throat abruptly.

"Gash to the head," She told them, frowning. "Just needed a dressing and some stitches."

"Did he, uh…," Sam spoke up. "say anything about why he was in town?"

She shook her head, offering the searching eyes of both boys each an apologetic smile. "Sorry no, you know I never ask. He was literally here for about fifteen minutes and then he was gone again. He seemed in more of a rush than usual. I _did_ ask why you weren't with him, though."

"What'd he tell you?" Dean pressed.

"Just that you were working another job," She said, her voice lowering slightly. "I…I didn't think anything of it, if I'm honest with you."

Both boys were silent for a moment, before Dean snapped out of it first and jangled the keys to the Impala, taking a step towards the door. He nodded at her. "Well we really should get going. Thanks, Luce."

"Yeah, nice to meet you," Sam offered her a polite nod and a wave as he followed his brother towards the door.

She watched them approach the door, a nagging feeling in her stomach. She was taken aback by how overwhelmed by how uneasy the news of John's death had made her. Since they'd stepped in to her rescue all those years ago, she'd put John and his eldest son on a pedestal as saviour-types. In her head they'd seemed invincible. Now that she knew John was dead, it surprised her how much she suddenly feared for Dean's safety. If John could be taken down, the he surely could too just as easily. Plus, she could tell he was hurting, tired and defeated. She couldn't help but want to heal him a little. She supposed it was just the nature of her job. All she was sure of at that point was that she couldn't let him leave…couldn't let either of them leave. Without meaning to, she squeaked out to both of them. "Don't go."

Dean stopped, turning around slightly to look at her. "What?"

She cleared her throat, a little embarrassed. "Don't go."

He frowned at her, his eyes darting from her to Sam. "Whaddya mean?"

"I, uh, I just think you should take a few days to heal…let that wound get better and stay clean," She shrugged her shoulders as nonchalantly as she could. "From the sound of those dank, gross motels you stay in, that isn't gonna happen if you go straight back out on the trail of God-knows-what."

"Uh…," Sam stammered for a brief second. Neither brother was used to this situation. "That's a nice offer but we really have to…."

"Come on," She insisted. "Just for a few days...until I can take those stitches out, you know? I have a spare room and one you can sleep on the couch."

Dean looked at Sam in surprise before looking back at her. "Want us to stick around a while, huh?"

"Something like that," She shrugged, standing up and walking over to the pair of them. "Come on, everyone needs a break now and again, even you boys."

Dean licked his lips. It was as though she'd channelled into his thoughts. He'd been saying the same thing to Sam recently, not that Sam had taken much notice.

Luce looked at Sam, noticing that he didn't seem too keen. She leaned over and opened a drawer on a nearby table, pulling out a Rubik's Cube. "I know you boys always feel you need to be out doing something, solving things, but solve this!"

Sam stifled a laugh, shaking his head. "Thanks but…."

"Okay," Dean said solemnly, much to Sam's surprise.

"What?" Sam asked, screwing up his face.

Dean looked at her. He _was_ tired, tired to the point of exhaustion with everything that had been happening lately and what he saw in her eyes was comfort and care. Don't get me wrong, he saw the same things when he looked into Sammy's eyes but Sammy didn't have great legs and a pretty smile. He looked at Sam resolutely. "I said okay."

"Dean…," Sam protested.

Dean had already made up his mind though. "Just for a day or two, Sam."

"Great," Lucy smiled, a feeling of relief spreading through her.

Dean's eyes drifted down to the pizza menu sitting on the coffee table. He looked at her, a glint in his eye. "Ordering pizza?" 


	2. Chapter 2 The longest night

**A Normal Life: Chapter 2. **

…..

About an hour later Lucy and Dean sat at opposite ends of her sofa, watching television. She'd changed out of her bathrobe into some casual sweats and a t-shirt, something a little more modest. The sounds of Sam in the shower drifted softly through into the living room. A pizza box lay open on coffee table, one last slice of pizza lying within it. Dean shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking away from the TV and at the door every few seconds.

"Geez, Dean. Relax," She shook her head at him. "You're making me nervous over here."

"I just have that effect on women…," He tried to laugh it off but saw that she wasn't buying it. "We, uh, we don't take much time off."

"Yeah, I can tell," Lucy remarked, motioning towards the pizza box with her head. "Have the last slice. I don't want it."

Dean looked at it, shaking his head and shrugging lightly. "Nah, I'm good. Save it. I'll have it for breakfast in the morning."

"What?" Lucy screwed up her nose, looking at him in disgust. "You…you do that?"

"What yourself…," Dean smirked, taking the last swig from his bottle of beer and looking back at the TV. "Never had pizza for breakfast before?"

"No," She shook her head, raising her eyebrows. "Call me crazy but I have…_breakfast_ food…for breakfast. Remind me to fix you something proper for breakfast in the morning."

Dean didn't reply, just gave a half-nod, knowing full well that that slice of pizza was making its way down his gullet in the morning. He slapped a hand gently off his thigh as she flicked to a different channel. "_ER_…it figures."

"What? You don't like it?"

"Don't get me wrong, they keep crankin' out the seasons but since Carter left the show aint worth a…," He stopped, knowing how lame he sounded. "No…no I don't."

"Fine," She tossed the remote control at him. "You pick something then."

He took the remote in his good hand, flicking the channels until he came across something. He made a small grunt of approval. "Uh." 

"Oprah…," She said, amused. "You watch Oprah?"

He quickly changed the channel. "No, of course not."

She laughed, looking at his empty beer bottle. "Want another one?" 

He shook his head joking. "Tryin' to get me drunk?"

"You wish," She retorted, bring her feet onto the couch and curling up into the corner.

"I do actually," He muttered under his breath.

"I don't remember you being _quite_ so flirty on past occasions, Dean," She noted, folding her arms slightly.

"I guess I just never stuck around long enough…," He remarked. "Except for that one time."

She remembered "that one time" well, an "almost-kiss" two years ago or so that had been interrupted by John, and she reddened a little at the memory, looking away.

He tried to smooth over his last comment. "Or maybe I've just unleashed the beast…."

"Uh-uh," She wagged a finger at him. "There'll be no more beast in my house, not after last time."

"It was a poltergeist, not a beast," He reminded her.

She stuck her fingers in her ears as an over-emphatic gesture. "I don't wanna hear it."

"Alright, alright," He held up his hands in defeat. "I'm buttoning my mouth."

"Thank you," She said, turning her head back to the TV and the infomercial that had just come on.

"So…," He asked after a few seconds had passed. "Seeing anyone these days?"

She shook her head, stealing the remote off of him and changing the channel again, clucking her tongue nonchalantly as she explained with a sigh. "Nope. You know me, Dean, married to my job. But then, I guess you'd know something about that."

"Damn right," Dean nodded too, a glint appearing in his eye. "Honestly, Luce, you wouldn't believe the year we've had. Man, I've got some stories that would blow you away about things we've done n people we've saved…."

She shot him a warning look not to continue, making a _pffft_ noise as she took a swig of her own beer. "Hey, I have some stories of my own you know."

"Oh yeah," He said, shifting his sitting position so that he was facing her. "Gimme your best shot."

She thought for a second before excitedly sitting cross-legged on the couch. "Alright. Just last week I treated a kid with a triple gunshot wound to the chest. Saved his life, too."

"Impressive," Dean admitted, thoughtfully, picking up one of her couch cushions and tossing it playfully at her. "…but not impressive enough. Come back when you've faced down a killer scarecrow."

"Yikes, I don't wanna know," She shuddered. She looked at the clock and groaned. "I'd better go to bed. Work in the morning."

"Yeah, I think I'll join you," He said, standing up as she did too.

She looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh," He looked at her suddenly innocently. "You don't think I meant…."

"It's cute up to a point, Dean," She clucked her tongue at him. "But why don't you turn down the sleaze a little."

"Sleaze…," He echoed, following her as she left the living room. "No one's ever called it sleaze before."

"Then what do they call it?" She asked.

"Charming, if anything," he said, shrugging his shoulders confidently.

As they walked past the bathroom door Sam opened it, wearing a plain t-shirt, some shorts and brandishing wet hair. He looked at them as they passed.

"We're going to bed," Dean told him, giving him a pat on the arm.

"What did I just say?" Lucy looked at him pointedly before looking back at Sam. "Not like that…."

"So you've decided to take the spare room, huh?" Sam observed a little dryly. "I guess I'm on the couch, then? Not that there's anything wrong with your couch, Lucy, no offence."

"None taken," She said, opening the airing cupboard and taking out a blanket and a spare pillow and handing them over to him. He thanked her.

"Well, I _am_ the injured one," Dean said, winking at his brother.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sam rolled his eyes, walking back towards the living room and shutting the door behind him. "G'night."

Lucy carried on down the hall, stopping outside the guest room, pointing to it and then to the room directly across from it. "You're in there…I'm in here."

"Thanks, Luce," He said, reaching out and touching her arm. All joking aside, he flashed her a genuinely appreciative smile. "Really, thanks."

"That's okay," She smiled humbly. "Night, Dean."

He went to open the door to the spare room, but turned back round with a mischievous smile on his face. "Hey wait?"

"Yes?" She spun back round to stare at him.

"…not gonna tuck me in?" He asked.

She raised her eyes at him, before laughing it off gently. She licked her lips and stared him down with a confident smile. "You're a big boy, Dean. I'm sure you can tuck yourself in. Try not to lie on your stitches, okay? Goodnight."

With that she disappeared into her own room and closed the door behind her. He stared at her closed door for a few moments before snickering lightly and going into his own room. Inside, he took in the décor, which was plain, but bright white. It looked so clean compared to the motels they usually stayed in. In the centre of it all lay a plush four-poster bed with a soft white duvet and, count 'em, FOUR fluffy pillows. He blew a kiss at it. "This is what I'm talkin' about."

…

Lucy lay in bed, her hands clasped over her chest as she stared up at the ceiling. She was wide, wide awake. She turned her head to the side to look at the clock on her bedside table, groaning when she saw it flashing 2.30 a.m.. She sighed, wishing that she could sleep. Knowing that they were in her apartment had her on edge. She liked it though, feeling very at ease. She always felt safer when the Winchesters were around. This wouldn't do, though. She _needed_ some sleep before work in the morning. Hot chocolate would do the trick, she thought as she threw the covers off and put on her robe over her pyjamas. She quietly left her room, closing the door behind her. She stared briefly at Dean's door, hearing him breathing soundly in his sleep. She padded down the hall and into the living room, trying to be quiet so as to not wake Sam, but pausing in confusion when she saw that he wasn't lying on the couch. She saw a light on in the kitchen up ahead, and made her way in.

"Sam?" She whispered, walking inside to find him sitting on his laptop at the kitchen table.

He looked up as she walked in. "Hi. Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, no," She shook her head and leaning against one of the kitchen counters. "I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither," He shot her a sympathetic look before turning back to his laptop. "I hope you don't mind but I connected my laptop to your wireless."

"No, that's fine," she shrugged at him, walking over to a cupboard and opening it as she tossed over her shoulder. "What are you doin' anyway?"

"Just a little research," He said, not wanting to say too much.

"Ah," She said, pulling a jar from the cupboard. "I'm gonna make myself a hot chocolate. Want one?"

"Hot chocolate?" He stopped what he was doing and craned his neck round to look at her. He sat back in his chair, reflecting. "Wow, no one's made me hot chocolate in years."

"I'll take that as a yes, then?" She asked, laughing lightly.

"Yeah," He said, looking back at his laptop. "Yes, please. I mean, so long as you're having one."

"Oke doke," She said, heating up some milk on the stove.

Listening to her clinking around behind him with mugs and spoons, Sammy turned away from the website he was looking at and at her. He couldn't help but feel a little uneasy at what an odd situation it was. A few hours ago they'd been taking down a lone vampire and now here they were in the house of someone he'd never seen before.

"What?" She asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she caught him looking at her. "What is it?"

"I just find it a little bizarre, this whole situation…," He mused, pursing his lips together in thought. He leaned forward, unable to shake himself out of hunter mode. He was used to interviewing the people they met on the road. "Hey, I know you don't like to talk about it, but…you said there was a poltergeist?"

She shuddered slightly. She didn't like talking about it, he was right, but if it made him feel more comfortable in her surroundings to know more about her. "Yeah, that's about the size of it. Well, not just my apartment but the whole building. I was fresh out of medical school and into my first year residency. I had a little more money than I was used to dorm life had taken its toll on me. I stumbled across an ad for this apartment in the paper. Only thing was, I hadn't done my research enough to learn about the number of unexplained deaths and injuries over the previous years."

Sam just nodded, listening intently.

"I wondered why a place like this was so cheap," She said, reminiscing with a little laugh. "Luckily for me your brother and your father had noticed the trend."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," She nodded, swallowing hard as the memories came back. "They, uh…they got here just in time."

He didn't press her for details. "Oh."

"So," She continued again, shrugging her shoulders lightly. "I told them that if there was ever anything I could do for them while they were in the area not to hesitate in coming to see me."

"Nice of you," He remarked.

"Nice of me?" She echoed, setting a cup of hot chocolate down in front of him and sitting down at the opposite end of the table. "Nice of them! It was the least I could do. I mean, I'm trained to try and save peoples' lives…but how do you even begin to try and save people from the things your family do. I don't know. It sounds lame but, I guess they were like my heroes or something."

"Hero…," He repeated quietly. "First time I've heard that word used.

"Dean or John never mentioned me?"

He shook his head. "They did a lot of jobs…and we didn't really see a lot of each other back then."

"Mmm," She took a sip of her drink, one finger absent-mindedly fingering the carved pattern on her wooden kitchen table. "Dean mentioned you were at college." 

He looked down, away from her eyeline and into the chocolatey contents of his mug. His voice went quiet. "That's right."

"What'd you study, if you don't mind me asking?" She asked, curious.

He hesitated a moment before answering, but then looked back up at her as he took a sip of his hot chocolate. "I was pre-law."

"Law?" She raised her eyes in surprise. "Wow."

"Why so surprised?" He asked, trying feebly to joke. "Don't look like the law type?"

"No, no it's not that," She waved her hands defensively. "It's just that _law_ is quite a serious career-path. What made you choose to do this instead? Was…was it after your dad…?"

"Yes," he nodded, looking down. "Well, yes and no."

She looked at him quizzically, pressing him for more information with her eyes.

He swallowed, pushing his cup away slightly and clearing his throat and snapping slightly. "Sorry, I don't really like to talk about it. It's my business."

"Oh," She said, instantly feeling tense and embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"I didn't mean to snap," He apologised.

"It's alright," She smiled understandingly. This guy clearly had his own issues that he was working through and she supposed he was right, it wasn't really her place. She awkwardly picked up her cup, motioning to the door. "I'm just gonna take this back to bed with me. I'll let you get back to your research. Night, Sam."

"Night," He said, craning his neck as he watched her leave. When she was gone, he bit his lip, feeling guilty for snapping after she'd taken them in. "Shit."

…..


End file.
